


i know i should be brave, but i'm just too afraid

by moondown



Category: Tales of Xillia
Genre: F/M, Ghosts, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-04
Updated: 2013-11-04
Packaged: 2017-12-31 12:46:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,494
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1031855
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moondown/pseuds/moondown
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alvin is haunted by more than just memories.</p>
            </blockquote>





	i know i should be brave, but i'm just too afraid

**Author's Note:**

> Contains spoilers for those of you that haven't beaten the game (or _almost_ beaten the game).

"Alvin?" Jude asks quietly, the comforter shuffling as he sits up in bed. He hesitates, and then asks, "who are you talking to?"

Alvin is quiet for a moment, the silence stretching between them. In the dark, he can see Jude shift uncomfortably, fingers reaching out to fiddle with his sleeve, head tilted downwards in uncertainty. Alvin waits for Jude's aggravated huff, waits until he lies down again - his back towards him - and tugs the blanket over his shoulders before Alvin says, "no one."

*

It's - he's not sure why it begins, never found her to be spiteful in any sense (because she isn't like him, was never - she always apologized, is the thing, always chose to  _forgive_  rather than hold a grudge, and Alvin had liked that about her, because it separated them, made her  _different_  from him), but she appears before him in brief flashes, in the corners of his eyes when he isn't paying attention to what is in front of him. He'd accounted it, at first, to a trick of the light, his mind playing tricks on him, but -

She began to speak to him, then, began to whisper into the shell of his ear. Told him things he thought he'd never hear; not again.

"I loved you, you know," she says, voice smooth and as present as the air.

He sucks in a breath, squeezes his eyes closed. After a time, he murmurs, "I know." His voice is shaking. "I know, I know, I know."

*

Before - back when she'd been breathing - he promised he would never hurt her.

He'd been lying, of course, making promises to guide her suspicions away from the truth. She had asked him, point-blank: "Can I trust you?" and it had caught him off-guard, because he'd just kissed her for the thousandth time, pressed his tongue between her lips like coming home, and she still had to ask if he could be trusted.

He should've told her no, because - she'd already known. She never asked questions she didn't already know the answer to, and he knows she saw his eyelashes flutter as he told her: "I would never hurt you, not intentionally, not in a million years."

He dreams about this, years later, after she's fallen from the cliff.

*

"I heard you," she says, "when you said that Jill was your favorite name of mine."

Alvin smiles wryly, secretively. "Well," he murmurs, "that was something you were supposed to hear."

It is quiet for a moment. She disappears from his vision and reappears beside him, resting her head on his shoulder, fingertips dancing over his thigh, and he can't actually  _feel_  her but he can remember what her touch is like, and it's almost the same. He starts to lift his hand to rest atop hers, to settle her, but then he remembers he can't and he clenches it into a fist, instead.

"Why?" she asks. Her voice sounds so, so close, but her breath is not warm; all he feels is a cold gust of air against his cheek, a phantom breeze tickling the fine hairs there.

He shrugs, and perhaps it would've jostled her if she was really there, but she doesn't move an inch. "I don't know. Because - " he sucks in a breath, cutting himself off. He doesn't look at her but he can envision the smile that ghosts her face, shy and coy and  _fond_ , because she knows, has  _always_  known, whatever he cannot say.

"Al," she murmurs, and when she leans to kiss the apple of his cheek, she fades away.

*

"Are you alright, Alvin?" Milla asks, studying him carefully from where she sits across the table. "You've been acting strangely."

"Yeah, sorry," he apologizes airily, waving a dismissive hand. "There's, uh. A lot on my mind."

A few of the others pause in eating to glance at him, though Leia stares determinedly into her stew, pretending as though she hadn't overheard. And that - Alvin understands that, doesn't blame her for not wanting anything to do with him, knows how  _hard_  it is for her to put her trust into him again after all that's happened. What's much more difficult to handle are the things he doesn't understand, the constant presence of someone who no longer - who isn't  _present_.

"Have you been able to rest properly?" Rowen questions, offhandedly enough that Alvin can pretend he suspects less than he does.

Alvin hesitates before shaking his head. He drops the spoon in his hand into his bowl and cards his fingers through his hair, shrugging. "Something's keeping me up," he says, almost surprised that he'd murmured even half a truth.

*

He begins to shake, squeezing his eyes to keep from - "Why are you here again? What do you  _want_?"

She cocks her head to the side in a way that is almost coy. "Al," she tsks. "You're so much stronger than this."

Alvin takes a shuddering breath, wondering if the tightness in his chest will ever fully dissipate. He wants so badly to reach for her, to tug her against his chest and just - hold her for a while. He wants to fold her away into his pocket and keep her there, protect her like he hadn't before. "I've really fucked up," he says after a pause. "I'm so sorry, I've fucked so much up, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm - "

She shushes him by pressing a finger to his lips, and he can't - he can't feel her, but he remembers the shape of her hands, the suppleness of her skin, and he silences.

"I'm not here to hurt you, Al," she tells him, and her smile is so -  _soft_ , so kind, that he wants to kiss her one more time, to feel happiness on his lips again.

He reaches to clutch her wrist, instead, but his fingers curl around nothingness.

*

"I remember when we first met," he tells her one night, after Jude and Rowen have both fallen asleep in the beds on either side of him. She's curled next to him on the mattress, body thin and lithe and fox-like, clever fingers tracing the lines on his upturned palm. "I remember thinking - thinking that you were  _so_  beautiful." His voice is quiet, reminiscent to a breath more than a whisper, but he tenses when Jude shifts beneath the blanket, releasing a long breath before the rise and fall of his chest evens.

"I remember, too," she says, face tucked into the junction of his neck and shoulder. She hesitates for a moment, merely staring at a spot on his neck, and when he begins to tilt his head to look at her, she says, "I thought,  _how can you love someone so bitter?_ "

"Love," Alvin repeats, and the word feels strange on his tongue, unfamiliar. He swallows down a wry laugh. "That fast, huh?"

She closes her eyes and he can almost feel the flutter of her lashes on his pulse. "I've always been a fool."

"No," Alvin sighs after she disappears. "I'm the fool."

*

Leia won't stop looking at him; but it's only when she thinks he's not paying attention. It begins at breakfast in the inn that morning and continues through the evening before Alvin finally asks, "is there a reason you've been watching me all day?"

Leia blushes all the way to her ears and stammers over an apology before defending herself. "I haven't - it isn't  _you_ ," she explains, finally meeting his gaze. (Alvin nearly -  _nearly_  - flinches away from her, a pang of fear shooting straight through the center of his chest and expanding until it is merely a tremor, but he holds her stare.) "I keep thinking that I'm seeing someone next to you out of the corner of my eye, but when I look..." she trails off, shaking her head. "I must be going crazy," she says, a little deprecatingly.

Alvin blinks, mouth opening and closing dumbly before he purposefully presses his lips tightly together and swallows. After a long moment, he asks, "who do you see?" in a voice that is too small, too timid, to be his own.

Leia seems alarmed, eyes widening and mouth parting in surprise. "I - I dunno, I'm not even sure if I'm seeing anyone..."

"Is it - " Alvin starts, and then sighs frustratedly, carding a hand through his hair. He closes his eyes. "Is it  _her_?"

When he opens them, Leia's guilty look tells him all he needs to know. "Okay," he says, taking a breath through his nose. "Okay. Thanks."

"Is she...does she want something?" Leia asks, the edges of her voice frayed with concern. (Alvin still doesn't - he can't figure out why she cares so much, why she's so willing to  _forgive_ , why she reminds him  _so much_  of the ghost haunting him, but - some part of him likes that about her because it is so different from who he is, because it is a part that is so similar to - )

"It doesn't matter," Alvin says, offering her a smile that doesn't feel manufactured. "I like the company."

*

"I miss the feeling of you," Alvin murmurs, half-asleep and aching to reach for her.

She gazes at him through her lashes, a petal-pink color dusting her cheeks, and then smiles, motioning for his hand.

"I can't - " he says, almost desperately, but she interrupts, patting the space on the mattress, "palm up."

He's confused but does what she asks, lying his hand where hers had been a moment before in the way she'd told him to, fingers curled inward naturally, as though looking for something to hold onto. She simply - stares at it for a moment, eyes tracing the spidery lines of his palm, before she carefully places her hand into his, weaving her fingers into the spaces between his, and he - he knows that what he is feeling is a phantom touch, but it - it seems so  _present_ , so real and warm that his eyes well with tears.

"I'm sorry," he apologizes, reaching to wipe them away with his other hand. "Fuck, I'm sorry. I didn't think - " he takes a breath, lungs seizing with it, and then blurts, "I miss you."

For a fraction of a moment, he swears he feels her squeeze his hand.

*

He knows, before she says so, that her time left in this world is limited, that, eventually, she will - she  _must_  - leave.

"Are you - are you afraid?" he asks once, sitting on the edge of the mattress with his elbows on his thighs and his fists clenched over his knees.

"I'm already dead, Al," she says, laughing despite herself. "What more is there to be afraid of?"

"You'll forget me, eventually," he reminds her, taking a steadying breath. "You'll become someone new."

She smiles, sadly, and shakes her head. "I've remembered you in every life, Al. I've remembered you with every name." Her eyes glisten, but Alvin doesn't - he doesn't know if ghosts can cry, if she can still  _feel_  pain, or if it is only a phantom of the emotion; a memory. "You - " she starts, and then laughs, quietly. "I can only come here because you are a piece of me; you're living and breathing and - it's selfish of you, not to let go, Al. I can't leave unless you give that piece of me back."

Alvin feels his lower lip wobble traitorously. He is stronger than this. She told him that.

"I'm not ready," he admits after a while. "I'm not ready," he repeats, and he swears he can see her trembling.

She blinks a few times as though keeping tears at bay. "I'm not either," she says. "I - " she sucks in what looks like a breath. "I want to stay with you for now, Al. If that's okay."

Alvin nods. "Yes," he says, voice cracking. "That's okay."

*

"Alvin," Elize begins, unable to look him in the eye even though she's taken hold of his coattail while they walk.

Alvin comes to a stop on the path, tilting his head to look at her, though she stares studiously at her shoes. He isn't sure if he should say anything or just wait it out, but Milla steps up, asking, "what is it, Elize?"

Elize shuffles her feet, and Teepo, who is floating close to Alvin's shoulder, supplies, "Elize only wants to talk to Alvin, right now."

Milla raises a brow but allows it, heading a few paces away, the rest of the group following her. Alvin is surprised, himself, but he crouches down in front of Elize nonetheless, eye-level with her for the first time.

"Hey," he greets carefully. "What's up?"

"I - " Elize says, finally looking at him. "I think that everything is going to be okay."

"Oh?" Alvin says, eyebrows climbing towards his hairline.

"Yes," Elize says, more determined, now. "Growing up is about letting things go. I'm ready to grow up." She smiles at him, and she's - she's this beacon of hope in his life, one of the bravest kids he's met, and if she can let go, then -

So can he.

*

"This is the last time I'll see you, isn't it?" Alvin is so close to her that he swears he can feel the heat of her skin, can feel every breath she seems to take, can feel the wisps of hair fluttering over his skin. Presa smiles, watery, and nods once, unable to speak. Alvin goes on, asking, "are you okay with that?"

Presa closes her eyes, nods again, and when she opens them, Alvin knows he can see the tears brimming, slipping down her cheeks. He reaches to wipe them away and then stops short, fingers stilling in the air as though they are searching. "Please," Presa says after a moment, shuffling closer. "You can - you can touch me."

Alvin sucks in a breath, fingertips grazing her cheek, and it's - it isn't solid, isn't really there, but she leans into the touch as though she can feel him, and - then there's a drop of moisture on the pad of his thumb where he catches her tear, and that's  _something_ , something he hadn't expected, something that completely winds him, steals the air straight from his lungs.

"Presa," he says, barely able to get the word unstuck. She smiles at him, covers his hand with her own.

"Al - " she starts, and then, with finality, says, "goodbye."

"Goodbye," he whispers, turning the hand on her cheek palm up so he can hold onto her. "Goodbye," he says, one more time, before -

"Alvin?" Jude asks quietly, the comforter shuffling as he sits up in bed. He hesitates, and then asks, "who are you talking to?"

Alvin is quiet for a moment, the silence stretching between them. In the dark, he can see Jude shift uncomfortably, fingers reaching out to fiddle with his sleeve, head tilted downwards in uncertainty. Alvin waits for Jude's aggravated huff, waits until he lies down again - his back towards him - and tugs the blanket over his shoulders before Alvin says, with a small smile:

"No one."


End file.
